


Who's the Baddie? You Are Baby.

by Annie Day (Stepharriet)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/F, SwanQueen Fanfiction Facebook Group (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stepharriet/pseuds/Annie%20Day
Summary: It's Emma's first time.Luckily, Regina has done this before.My first Swanqueen fic. Of course it had to be 100% crack.Enjoy!





	Who's the Baddie? You Are Baby.

Just another story of a blonde and a brunette...

“You’re Henry’s birth mother?” the older, dark haired and ridiculously attractive woman asked. 

Now, if incredulity was a person and one did not know what incredulous meant, and someone showed you a picture of a person as a photographic representation of incredulity then the picture would be of that woman. 

That woman, with her disbelieving face, was Regina Mills.

“Hi” the younger-equally-attractive-but-in-a-more-blonde-way woman replied. 

I would like to say that the reason the blonde was so lost for words is because she was a little overwhelmed by the super-sexy hotness of the woman before her - but I won’t, because it wasn’t entirely true.   
Emma Swan was pretty much always that inarticulate.   
It was part of her charm.

“How would you like glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?” Regina asked, beckoning the younger woman to follow her indoors. 

Emma eyed the sway of the older woman’s perfectly toned ass appreciatively and then shivered. No wonder Regina was so lean if she was drinking apple cider vinegar by the glass full! 

Who even does that? Emma questioned, before concluding that Regina was most likely a witch or a or a pilates instructor.   
Probably both.

Once inside, Emma’s jaw dropped and she looked around the impressive abode with incredulity. Once upon a time the blonde hadn’t known what that word meant, but luckily for her one of her less psychologically abusive foster parents had shown her a photographic representation of the word in a book, so she was all good. It was also at that precise moment Emma realised why the older woman looked so familiar.   
She was also super glad that she had resisted the urge to ask if Regina had ever worked at Hardee’s.

“Wow. this place is huge!” the blonde exclaimed.

“It’s a mayoral mansion, dear. Of course it’s huge.” the older woman replied, her tone sarcastic and scornful but her visage no less appealing for it.   
It was, after all, part of her charm.

“No, I mean, dude...it’s like enormous!”

“Of course it is you idiot. Its a structural representation of status and power, of course it’s enorm...wait, did you just call me ‘dude’?” The dark haired woman’s hands flew to her hips in a totally generic display of annoyance and patronage.

“No. Yes. Maybe.” the blonde replied sheepishly.

“You’re not very articulate are you, dear?” The older woman asked, adding an eye roll for good measure.

“Erm...” Emma faltered, trying desperately to recall the picture demonstrating that particular word but failing miserably. All she seemed to be able to conjure up was the image of Davros from Doctor Who, which understandably wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

“I mean seriously Miss Swan, ‘dude’? What are you, some kind of free-spirited beach bum or something?” Regina asked, her right eyebrow quirking in a manner that was as endearing as it was expressive. 

It was certainly more impressive than her wink. Regina Mills could not wink to save her life. It was part of her cha...yeah, you get the picture.

“No. I actually I have a job.” the blonde countered. But I am a streetwise, rough around the edges, easy-ozy-approach-to-life kinda gal.”

“Easy-ozy” the brunette replied “Really, dear?” 

“Yep, it’s a real word. It’s in the urban dictionary and everything. Look it up if you don't believe me. It’s in there, right next to a picture of Whoopi Goldberg.” Emma replied, looking very pleased with herself.

Regina remained silent. Instead she simply stared at the younger woman and did the 'eyebrow quirking thing' until Emma visibly squirmed in discomfort under her gaze.

“Jeez, could you like, not do that. It’s extremely disconcerting.” Emma exclaimed.

Regina’s eyebrow almost shot off her forehead completely, not only at the shock of hearing Miss Swan use such a big word, but also pissed at the realisation she was now going to have to do a whole new incredulity photo shoot.

“Erm, I mean...it scares the shit out of me.” Emma replied, sighing with relief at her quick save. “Look, I’m sorry ok. No more calling you dude. How about I just hook my thumbs into my belt loops more often? Or better still I constantly have my hands in my back pockets? That still says blasé, right”

“I suppose.” Regina conceded.

“Well, that’s me covered. How about you? Clearly you’re the sassy, no-nonsense bitch queen here.” the blonde surmised, gesturing to the older woman before tucking her hands back into the ass pockets of her ridiculously tight jeans.

“Excuse me?”

“Its’s funny though...” Emma continued, “...with that whole ‘holier-than-thou’, ‘don’t-fuck-with-me-or-I-will-end-you-dear’ vibe you’ve got going on I thought you’d be, I don’t know, more...English.”

“More English? What the hell are you talking about?” Regina questioned.

“Well, you’re clearly the main baddie here, and everyone knows that baddie’s are usually English. So I figured you’d, you know, have more a posh accent or something.” Emma explained, shrugging her shoulders.

“Baddie? Seriously, Miss Swan. What are you, a twelve year old boy?” The older woman replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes yet again. What with that and the eyebrow thing she was giving herself a clusterfuck of a headache.

“Aw come on, you know what I mean. It’s like...like that character in Die Hard that tricks Bruce Willis into thinking he’s a hostage and it turns out he’s like the main bad guy.”

“You mean Alan Rickman?” Regina offered.

“Yes!” Emma replied becoming increasingly animated and sloshing half of her drink onto the expensive wooden floor in the process. “English as they come. Total boss level baddie. I rest my case.”

Regina stepped closer to the blonde and without breaking eye contact slowly annunciated each word of her reply.

“Alan Rickman, the actor, is English. His character in Die Hard is Hans Gruber. He’s German. And you Miss Swan...” the older woman took the glass from Emma’s hand and placed it carefully on the coffee table. “...you, are an idiot.”

Regina’s unexpected, but not altogether unwelcome, invasion of her personal space had Emma perplexed. The sudden change in atmosphere was almost palpable, and the blonde’s face crinkled in confusion. 

“Is this the part where we have sex? Because I want you to know I’m totally down with that.” 

**********************************************************************************************************

“Oh God,” Regina exclaimed. Her eyes widening in realisation. “you’ve never done this before have you?” Ever the queen of one-upmanship she didn’t even try to hide her smirk of superiority.

“If you must know, I have actually. I’ve done loads.” Emma replied indignantly.

Regina’s smirk grew. She was such a whore for dominance. It was actually part of the reason she got so much work. 

“How many, Miss Swan.” the brunette asked.

Emma gulped audibly as she felt the colour rise in her cheeks. “What?” she asked quietly.

“It’s a simple question, Miss Swan, how many fan fiction stories have you been characterised in?”

Emma gulped again before replying, “two...including this one.”

Regina let out a laugh. Luckily it was a husky, sexy laugh that pulled at Emma’s core in a way that she hadn’t experienced before.

“Don’t tell me,” Regina mocked “the other one was a M/F pairing?”

“If I say yes, will you take your hand away?” Emma replied with a nervous giggle.

Regina just stared at the blonde as if she had grown another head and it was currently speaking Elvish.

“Sorry. Lesbian in-joke.” Emma explained. “I thought it would diffuse the tension a little.”

“What would you know about being a lesbian?” Regina teased. “Did you look it up on Tumblr before you got here?”

“Oh shut up. If you’re such an expert, exactly how many of F/F stories have you been in then Ms ‘i’m so sexy i can fuck you with just my eyes?” Emma challenged.

“Really? You can actually feel that?” the older woman questioned. “I’d like to say the eye-fucking comes naturally but in reality it takes a lot of practice. A bit like writing a fan fiction. A talent not everyone has mastered, unfortunately” Regina mused, staring off into the distance with a look of mournful distain etched onto her otherwise flawless features. For a moment it was almost as if she could if she could picture a sad, middle aged woman staring blankly at her laptop screen waiting for the next bolt of inspiration. The author was clearly out of her depth and currently wondering how she ever imagined this was easy. But we digress.

Emma nodded enthusiastically “Well, trust me, that eye-fucking thing you do works a treat. I am so wet right now it’s unreal. I mean, sure, I’ve been wet before, but this is like wet, wet, you know?”

Regina nodded in understanding. “Of course I do, dear. I’ve done this before remember. Allow me to explain; what you’re feeling is femslash wet. It’s whole other realm of sexual response. Don’t worry. It’s perfectly natural. Nothing to be ashamed of, in fact some women would give anything to be femslash wet. You should consider it a gift, not a curse, Miss Swan.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t seem so bad. It’s just that I’m wearing red lace panties underneath these ridiculously tight jeans and right now I’m pretty sure there’s a distinct burgundy patch where the material has become soaked with my arousal.” 

Regina patted the younger woman’s arm supportively. “Again, nothing for you to be embarrassed about, dear. In my experience colour changing underwear is like the Litmus test for smut. I do believe we’re in for an epic fuck. It’s practically a given.” the brunette explained gleefully.

The blonde smiled nervously and unconsciously licked her lips as another rush of arousal soaked her darkening lace panties which may or may not have been a matching set with her bra depending on how close she was to laundry day.

“Now” Regina continued in a very business like manner that shouldn’t have been sexy, but it totally was, “before we go any further, did you read, and are you happy to proceed with all of the tags listed in the summary of this particular story?” 

“Tags?” Emma questioned, “I’m assuming you mean do I know it has an explicit rating? Yes, I know that. In fact I chose it specifically for that reason. I was torn between explicit and mature but then I figured explicit sounds so much dirtier, do you know what I mean?” 

Regina licked her lips, not subconsciously like her blonde counterpart had moments before, but slowly and completely deliberately. Because if there was one thing Regina Mills knew, it was how fucking sexy she was. And she was most definitely not afraid to show it.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean, Miss Swan. And tell me, are you a dirty girl?” the older woman questioned, her voice lowering just enough to be classified as sultry purring.

With a sudden rush of confidence and completely on instinct, Emma leaned forward so close now that her breath mingled with that of the captivating brunette causing them both to breathe a little deeper and a little faster.

“Madam Mayor, you have no idea what I am capable of.” the blonde parried. Thoroughly pleased with herself.

“Well, my, my, aren’t we the quick learner.” Regina remarked with a salacious grin before stepping away from the young woman. “But, just to be clear. The rating doesn’t necessarily reflect the content. So, I’ll ask you once again - are you happy with the tags? Can you even remember what they are? Damnit, did you even the summary?” the older woman asked, her frustration growing exponentially with each question. “You do know this is a G!P fic, right?”

Emma gulped and her eyes widened in an almost cartoon parody of 'gay panic'

"Fuck me" the blonde exclaimed as she was promptly pushed onto the stylish yet spacious-enough-to-have-wild-sex-on sofa.  
"That is the general idea, Miss Swan" the older woman replied, and in one flawlessly fluid motion the mayor was straddling the sheriff's lap so their faces were mere inches apart.  
The mayor smirked at the sheriff with that now familiar effortless air of superiority.   
"I do hope you like anal."


End file.
